


Anti-kink: Car sex

by ash_carpenter



Series: Anti-kink [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:50:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_carpenter/pseuds/ash_carpenter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Next installment in my anti-kink series (from my LJ <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=ash_carpenter&keyword=Anti-kink&filter=all">here</a>). This is one of my favourites :)</p>
<p>Sam, sex and the Impala? This should totally be the night of Dean's life! His baby has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anti-kink: Car sex

**Car sex**  
  
  
Dean had no idea how he and Sam had managed to screw for three months without doing it in the Impala. Scandalous, really.  
  
Still, they fully intended to rectify that right now – and it was gonna rock!  
  
Sam, the Impala and sex: his three favourite things. It was a good job there was no pie involved or else he might die from overstimulation or something.  
  
“Dude, calm down. You’re gonna give yourself a nosebleed or have an aneurism or...wet your panties with excitement.”  
  
Dean grinned at Sam, skilfully navigating the car out of town. Nothing was gonna kill his buzz, especially not his smartass little brother, who was soon going to be too face-down in upholstery to say anything at all.  
  
“Where are we going anyways?”  
  
“Somewhere more secluded than a motel parking lot. Or do you have a kink for skeevy now?”  
  
In the interests of not derailing the hot sex that was apparently coming his way, Sam restrained himself from uttering any of the less than complimentary retorts floating around in his brain.  
  
“No, you’re right. Let’s go somewhere classy, like an access road.”  
  
Well, almost restrained himself.  
  
“Oh, I think I can drum up a disused track for _you_ , sweetheart.”  
  
“Stop. You’re making me blush, you old romantic...”  
  
Dean chuckled, slapping his hand down on Sam’s thigh and then turning it palm up. His brother linked their fingers together and they held hands for a minute or so, both humming along to Deep Purple so that they didn’t have to acknowledge each other and could pretend that they weren’t being complete and utter girls.  
  
Dean whooped when he spotted what he was looking for and Sam gave him a slightly exasperated but mostly indulgent smile. “This is the best thing that ever happened to you, isn’t it?”  
  
“It’s up there,” agreed Dean. It was probably a good thing that they hadn’t been fucking at the time of the little Heaven excursion; it might have proven to be a _very_ different experience. Or maybe they wouldn’t have gone to Heaven at all? He still wasn’t really clear on the magnitude of incest as a sin.  
  
“What’re you scowling at?”  
  
“Not sure Hail Marys are gonna cut it, Sammy...”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Never mind.”  
  
They bumped up the track, coming to rest at the top of a hill. Dean whistled at the beautiful view, the land falling away below them and a large lake glittering in the moonlight.  
  
“What were you saying about romance?” asked Dean, winking at his brother.  
  
Sam raked his eyes over Dean’s face and body, taking in the sultry expression, the plump lips and smooth planes, all thrown into relief by the stark light. “Fuck romance,” he smirked, suddenly sliding across the bench seat and attacking his brother with a deep kiss, grabbing unceremoniously at his crotch at the same time.  
  
“Unf,” breathed out Dean ineloquently, quickly recovering to give as good as he was getting. He swivelled in his seat, wrapping his arms around Sam and drawing him closer while he licked inside his mouth, trying to fuck up into his hand. He found himself attempting to mount his brother like a horny dog, which was embarrassing enough – but not quite as embarrassing as the fact that he couldn’t slide his left leg underneath the steering wheel while humping Sam’s palm and somehow ended up wedged sideways.  
  
“What are you doing?” murmured Sam when he realised that Dean’s wriggles and grunts weren’t aimed at him anymore.  
  
“Nothing. Just...Hold on...Ungh...No, move left...Other left, asshole! Wait, there we go.”  
  
“Oof!” cried out Sam as Dean suddenly popped forward and landed in his lap. “Have I ever mentioned how graceful you are?”  
  
“Less talking, more fucking.”  
  
Deciding that it was one of Dean’s better ideas, Sam grinned and kissed him again, sliding big hands up inside his shirt and pulling him close. They rutted against each other for a few minutes, trying unsuccessfully to strip one another, buttons suddenly too large to fumble open and zippers stuck, with limbs apparently glued into sleeves and pants.  
  
“Fuck! Wait, just...” Dean slid off Sam, squirming around and finally managing to wrestle his shirt off. “That’s better. C’mere...” Dean managed to drag his brother’s dick out of his pants and then he tugged at his thigh, pulling insistently until Sam was straddling him on the bench seat.  
  
“Fuck, yeah,” he groaned as he freed his own cock and their shafts rubbed together. Grasping Sam’s ass, he pulled him back and forth, grinding up against him and lapping at his pulse point.  
  
DONK. DONK. DONK.  
  
“Dean! Stop!” snapped Sam, trying to duck his head so that it wasn’t banging on the roof of the car. “If you really wanna do it this way, then you’re gonna have to go on top. Shortass.”  
  
“Hey!” Fortunately, Dean was too excited to take much offense and he sank down in the seat, pulling Sam down with him and apologising vaguely when the kid hissed in pain as his legs spread unnaturally wide.  
  
“I would kinda like to be able to get through this without a ruptured ball sac,” he pointed out bitchily, trying to manoeuvre himself into a more comfortable position. Stupid Impala. Damned impractical car. No wonder Dad had bought the Sierra and...woah. That thought wasn’t going anywhere good.  
  
“Why the hell are you pulling that face?” demanded Dean, who was a bit sore about the whole “get through this” remark, if truth be known. Like it was a chore or something. Was Sam _trying_ to ruin it for him?  
  
“I was thinking about Dad.”  
  
“What?!” spluttered Dean, immediately ceasing his attempted humping. “Gross, dude!”  
  
“Wait, no. I mean, yes – exactly. That’s why I was pul...Look, never mind. Just...keep going.”  
  
DONK. DONK.  
  
“No, stop!”  
  
“Well, which is it?!”  
  
“This car isn’t big enough,” whined Sam, rubbing his sore head.  
  
“Hey, don’t blame the car. She’s a perfectly normal size,” replied Dean pointedly. “Never had a problem before!”  
  
“Oh, so it’s my fault? And, what? You think that talking about your previous conquests is gonna help get me in the mood?”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Are you getting your period again? I just meant that it’s not the car’s fault you’re so damned huge!”  
  
“And it’s not my fault that you’ve only fucked girls in here before!” Off Dean’s shifty look, Sam leaned back, putting some distance between them. “Wait, you have only been with girls in here, right?”  
  
“Of course,” replied Dean with all the sincerity of a used car salesman.  
  
“Oh my God! You...man-whore!”  
  
“Man-whore? I can’t even beli...” Dean stopped mid-sentence, taking a deep breath and forcibly calming himself. “Look. Let’s not get hung up on the past, okay? We can argue some other time when we’re not ruining my favourite fantasy of getting it on with you in the Impala. Agreed?”  
  
Sam glared for a moment before relaxing. After a few seconds, his lips twitched into a smile. “That’s your favourite fantasy...?”  
  
“Shut up,” growled Dean playfully, wrapping a hand around Sam’s neck and pulling him down for a deep kiss, heavy on tongue and dirty-wet and hot. By the time they broke apart, they were both panting, eyes glazed with lust and cocks leaking against one another.  
  
“Back seat?”  
  
“Hell yeah.”  
  
They tumbled themselves into the back in a jangled heap of limbs, swearing and grunting when errant appendages smacked into leather and metal or snagged on steering wheel, dash and parking brake. Finally, half-undressed, sweaty and with their dignity pretty much bobbing in the air, they lay sprawled in the back of the car, one of Sam’s feet still residing in the front.  
  
“Maybe we should unwind the windows?” suggested Dean as he looked at the foggy, wet glass. “This is all getting a bit Titanic.”  
  
Ignoring him, Sam pushed both of their jeans further down their thighs, trying to position himself on top of his brother as the denim caught awkwardly around his knees. He frowned as Dean started shifting their position, apparently attempting some kind of complicated contortion and then bitching loudly when one of Sam’s shoes left a print on the roof.  
  
“What the hell are you trying to do, Dean? I don’t bend that way!”  
  
“Pfft, like I haven’t heard that before...” muttered Dean as he finally managed to get himself on top of Sam, whose face was smooshed up against the door.  
  
For a fruitless minute or so, Dean attempted to insinuate himself between Sam’s thighs, thwarted both by the lack of space and the fact that Sam’s jeans were preventing him from opening his legs very far.  
  
“Was this the master plan?” asked Sam sardonically, eyebrows raised.  
  
“You’re not helping.”  
  
“Just let me turn over. It’s never gonna work this way,” insisted Sam, shoving at Dean and trying to roll, barely noticing when his knee delivered a fairly solid whack to his brother’s nuts.  
  
“HEY! Let’s take some better care of the family jewels, eh, Sammy? And...no, don’t turn...Ow! Wait, I wanted...”  
  
Sam paused. “Wanted what?”  
  
Dean was quiet for a moment. “Nothing.”  
  
“What...?” Sam craned his neck and looked at him. “Did you want to be face to face?”  
  
Dean shrugged defensively. “No. Doesn’t make any difference to me...”  
  
“Oh my God, you did. You had some little romantic interlude worked out, didn’t you? It’s so cute!”  
  
“Fuck you,” snarled Dean, slapping Sam’s ass and pushing his face down into the leather. “Just didn’t want you making a mess of my seats. And while we’re on the subject, if you come on her, I’m gonna leave you by the side of the road. I’m not even kidding.”  
  
Thinking that the chances of him coming at all were pretty damned slim at this rate, Sam just pulled his head out of Dean’s grip and turned back to look at him. “You wuf me...”  
  
“Oh blow me, princess.” Gathering up his errant testosterone, Dean spat into his hand and unceremoniously shoved a finger into his brother’s ass, smirking at the yelp he received. “Now lie there like a good little bitch and take it...”  
  
Within a spare few moments, he was grinding his erection against Sam’s ass as he worked him, leaning down to nip and kiss his shoulders and jaw. With his left leg trapped and rapidly going numb and his other foot jammed in the footwell (possibly never to come out again), while his jeans practically cut off his circulation, it wasn’t exactly comfortable. However, his lust had come roaring back with a vengeance and Sam was cursing and pushing back against his hand, and...  
  
“Dean?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Are we moving...?”  
  
“Aw, Sammy...Am I rocking your world?” grinned Dean, pleased with himself. Yeah, he had moves.  
  
“No, jerk-off! Can you get over yourself for one minute?! The car’s rolling!”  
  
“Huh, what? But we...Crap!” One of them (Sam, obviously, with his stupid big Yeti feet) must have knocked the parking brake! Dean lunged over the seat, trying not to panic as the car gathered momentum as the hill became steeper in its descent to the lake.  
  
With his bare ass still hung over the seat and his feet resting against Sam’s back for leverage, Dean yanked frantically at the brake, cursing a blue streak and trying not to whimper when the Impala didn’t immediately stop. The grass was probably slick and she was having trouble finding purchase.  
  
“Come on, baby, come on. Stop for me, please, baby...” he begged the car. “I’m sorry, I won’t let him mess you up again, I promise...”  
  
“Hey!” yelled Sam in outrage. He hadn’t done anything to the damned car! And did Dean really have to lavish so much attention on the fucking thing when it was about to tip them head-first into a lake? And would it really have been too much to ask for the stupid Impala to wait until he’d at least gotten off?  
  
Even inanimate objects were going out of their way to cock-block him now. It was probably payback for the whole inadvertently starting the apocalypse thing. Sheesh, karma was a bitch.  
  
“Think maybe you could do something more useful than lie there?!”  
  
“Huh? What do you want me to do?” asked Sam, observing with detached interest that they were gathering speed. “Maybe you should put the brakes on.”  
  
“Thank you, Doctor State the Fucking Obvious! Thank God that college education didn’t go to waste. Get out and slow her down!”  
  
“What?!” gaped Sam. When he received an ‘encouraging’ kick to his ass, he threw open the back door, grumbling to himself.  
  
Unfortunately, having his jeans around his knees and one shoe hanging on precariously by a lace wrapped around his big toe didn’t really lend itself to a graceful exit. Sam squawked as he tumbled head-first into the damp grass and began to roll down the hill, coughing out an expletive as a twig got stuck in his crack.  
  
By the time he managed to stop himself by snagging hold of a tough-looking thistle – and OW! – the Impala had merrily sailed past him. He quickly scrambled to his feet, trying to pull up his jeans as he hopped after the recalcitrant vehicle and valiantly attempting not to be distracted by the sight of Dean’s naked ass through the back window.  
  
Although he didn’t manage to get his pants fastened (and later he’d probably feel a bit silly about having run full pelt down a hill with his hard-on waggling in the breeze), he did overtake the Impala and launch himself at her grille.  
  
At first, the only consequence of his daring action was that he ended up plastered to the metal as they careened toward the water, looking like the world’s largest and most ungainly hood ornament. He could see Dean shouting frantically through the windscreen, no doubt suggesting that Sam’s plan hadn’t been one of his best.  
  
They both screamed as they approached the bottom of the hill, hanging on for dear life and wondering if they were finally going to be done in by an accident worthy of an entire slew of Darwin Awards.  
  
And then, as the ground levelled out toward the banks of the lake, the Impala rolled serenely to a stop.  
  
“Fuck,” breathed Sam, slithering off the hood to land in a heap on the muddy ground.  
  
“Sam? Are you okay?” asked Dean, sounding frantic, as he tried to glide his way out of the car, fighting the door handle from upside down.  
  
Sam looked mournfully at his right foot, wiggling his toes and pouting. “I lost my shoe. Again.”  
  
Dean laughed breathlessly as he rolled out into the dirt. “Well...coulda been worse.”  
  
They heard the chirp of a siren as blue and red light washed the sky.  
  
“Dean...Just once, would it kill you not to open your big mouth and tempt fate like that...?”  
  
Ten minutes later, Sam and Dean were standing side by side with identical sheepish expressions while the officer looked the area over with a flashlight, shooting them distrustful looks. He’d been on a routine patrol – the area was well known as a local make-out spot – and he’d seen the near-catastrophe.  
  
“What did you say you were doing out here?” he asked, pointing the light in their faces and giving the kind of disgusted sneer that let them know exactly what the law thought about homosexuality in this area.  
  
“Listen, it’s fine, officer. We’re brothers,” Dean attempted to reassure him.  
  
The flashlight dipped down to the unfastened crotch of Dean’s jeans. “You ain’t doing yourself any favours here, son,” he warned.  
  
“No, listen,” continued Dean brazenly, ignoring the jab in the ribs from Sam. “There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. See, we were just looking for my brother here’s...uh...shoe. And then it got really hot, and so we took off our clothes...”  
  
Sam fixed him with a glare-bitchface-incredulous “you’re such a moron” special, hissing, “Dean? Stop talking.”  
  
“Yeah, okay.”  
  
A further five minutes later, feeling only slightly guilty, they were peeling back toward town, leaving the unconscious officer to have a nice, refreshing nap by the lake.   
  
“Did you have to steal his nightstick...?”  
  
“Hey, homophobic assholes deserve to get robbed. Besides, could come in handy...” He waggled his eyebrows.  
  
Sam chose to ignore the remark, sighing and rubbing his hand absently over his crotch. Man, he was still worked up. And Dean looked all flushed and gorgeous. His eyes slid over to his brother just in time for him to notice that Dean’s gaze was fixed on his groin and they were drifting toward the hedgerow.  
  
“Hey! Eyes front, soldier,” grinned Sam, leaning against his door and spreading his legs a little wider, teasing Dean by running his fingers over his own rapidly filling dick.  
  
Dean made a rumbling purring-growling noise that sent a little thrill through Sam.  
  
“So...”  
  
“Mmm, yeah?”  
  
Dean raised a questioning eyebrow. “Skeevy motel parking lot sex?”  
  
“Oh God, yes.”  
  
  
  
THE END


End file.
